Leaps of Faith
by GirlWithNoLife
Summary: Cupcake wasn't a child anymore; she had to grow up, whether she wanted to or not. That meant that she had to forget about figures like The Sandman, Santa, the EasterBunny and ToothFairy and even JackFrost. As an adult however she comes across shadows of her past and finds herself in the center of a world she didn't believe. Can she face everything she ran from or will it crush her?


_**Leaps of Faith**_

Summary: Cupcake wasn't a child anymore; she had to grow up, whether she wanted to or not. That meant that she had to forget about figures like The Sandman, Santa, the Easter bunny and Tooth Fairy and even Jack Frost. As an adult, however she comes across shadows of her past and finds herself in the center of a world she didn't believe in.

Notes: Rated teen for some harsh language her and there.

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**~*Chapter 1*~**

"_Nobody gets argued all the way into becoming a believer on the sheer basis of logic and reason. That requires a leap of faith."  
-Francis Collins_

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"...Sweets?" Dark brown eyes blinked open as she heard the voice of her boss, sounding as gruff and annoyed as ever.

"Yeah, I heard you," a woman in her mid-thirties sighed. "Look, I don't know why you want me to look into this. I'm a book reviewer, not a journalist. I don't do 'human interest.' If you call some stupid kid committing suicide '_human interest._'"

"I do and today you do too. If you want to keep your place on the paper that is." her editor reminded her in the tone all bosses trained to get. "Look, it's right in your neighborhood, so it's not as if you're going out of your way. Besides, you'll just be collecting facts and statements, it's up your alley, Sweets."

"No, it's not," since she was talking to her boss the woman pushed the growl in her throat down. "I don't do people. Especially people who are dealing with the death of someone close to them!"

"Like I said, today you are. Since Joey decided to lose his temper and mess everything up, I'm out a reporter." her boss scoffed as the journalist had done this on purpose just to annoy him. "So until I can get a replacement, you're it."

"Dean, I have a kid-"

"Not my problem. What is my problem is what's in tomorrow's paper and who's on the pay roll, got it?"

"Got it." 'You pain in the ass, bastard.'

"Good. Good luck, sweetness." After the polite goodbyes, she hung up the phone. After a long breath, she ran a hand through her chopped pixie hair style. Marvelous.

Well, first thing's first, she had to get a baby-sitter; hopefully her neighbor was available. She picked up the phone and dialed the number of the neighbor across the hall. The phone was answered and she was greeted with barking before the hello.

"_Hello?"_

"Hi, Susan."

"_Oh! Hello Joyce."(1)_

"Are you busy?"

"_Not really, I was just taking Kobi for a walk."_

"Oh. Well, I hoping you could watch Brendan for me," Joyce explained. "You see the paper I freelance for wants me to write a piece on human interest, so I have to go down to the college and get some statements."

"_Huh? But I thought you did book reviews."_

"I'm stepping out of my comfort zone." Joyce said grimly. '_More like I'm being shoved._' Susan laughed.

"_I see. Well, that's good,"_ she said. "_It's healthy to step out of your comfort zone once in a while. I don't mind watching Brendan. I'll come over after I feed Kobi."_

"Thanks, Susan." With that Joyce hung up the phone before walking through the living room to the kitchen where her son was watching the science channel as he munched on a snack.

Joyce Sweets lived in a small, drab apartment where the living room and kitchen connected into one. There was one bedroom, but that belonged to her son and his mass of toys.

"Hey, Bren." Joyce bent down and kissed the child's head, much to his disgust. "Still glum?" All she got in reply was a grumpy grunt. Brendan was very upset today because of the horrible time he had been having so far.

At school there was a math test and he had failed because he hadn't used "friendly" numbers. Angry, he shot off his mouth and stated that unless the numbers were eating people, or beating someone with a club he didn't see how a number could be unfriendly. He then went on to say that numbers logically couldn't be friendly or unfriendly as numbers were just 'things' and things didn't have emotions. Needless to say, the teacher didn't appreciate the smart attitude and to vent Brendan had drew a picture of his teacher getting eaten by numbers. She saw and gave him detention for the rest of the day. Honestly, Joyce couldn't blame him for his current temperament. At his age she was just like him.

With a sympathetic grin she ruffled his brown tuff of hair.

"Well, I just wanted to let you know that I'm going out,"

"Where?" came a rather grumpy, but slightly curious reply.

"Dean wants me to do some reporting on—human interest."

"Thought Joey did that."

"It was, but he lost his job."

"Why?"

"He lost his _temper_." She made sure to empathize this to her boy. He shifted.

"Whatcha going to write?" he asked

"I'm going to do a story on some kid who—died." Joyce hesitated to add that last part, but she strongly believed in honesty. Besides, she knew her son was tough enough to take it. He turned to her now, his big brown eyes staring at her with full interest.

"Really? You're going to do some detective work? Solve a _murder_?" he asked, reminding Joyce that perhaps buying the boy detective books weren't such a good idea.

"It's not a murder, muffin," she sighed. '_Not exactly.'_ "Anyway, Susan's going to come and watch you until I get back, okay?"

"'kay."

"I shouldn't be gone too long, but just in case there's some leftover pizza in the fridge. But remember to eat your apple with it."

"Yes, mam." With a playful smirk she bent down and kissed him again. She giggled as the boy scrunched up his face and wiped the spot.

"I'll see you later then, muffin!"

"Mom! Don't call me that!"

Joyce walked to the door and her eye caught an old photograph of her childhood when she was known as Cupcake. After a moment a tired breath escaped. Joyce had long since out grown that name and that little girl. Now she was nothing more than a faint memory and sadly enough Joyce believed it was better that way.

She grabbed her jacket and walked outside, where snow decorated the ground in smeared footsteps.

Outside she pulled out her cellphone and dialed a number as she walked down the street.

"_Yeah?"_

"Hey, Joey." Joyce heard the man's tone cheer.

"_Hey, Sweetness,"_ he said. _"To what do I owe this honor?"_

"Oh, nothing. I'm just checking in." Joyce shifted in the snow. She didn't really want to admit to her friend that her boss had pushed his old job on to her. "How's the hand?"

"_Oh, it's fine, Sweets," _came the cheerful reply. _"Turns out the bastard could dish it out to his wife and kid, but it came to taking it himself, he crumbled. It's barely a bruise still. A little darker, but nothing to worry about."_ Joyce made sure to grip the handle bar as she walked down the steps to the subway. It was surprisingly vacant, but there were enough people around so that no one would dare try anything.

"That's a relief at least." she said. Then Joyce's condescending side popped up. "I hope it was worth getting fired over." There was an irritated sigh.

"_Tell me you didn't call to start that again!"_ came an irritated growl. _"I heard it the first time, and I'm not sorry about what I did."_ Joyce softened.

"I know," she said gently. "You're too much of an idiot to."

"_Ouch, harsh! So is that all you called about?" _Joyce knew she'd have to say it, so she got straight to it.

"Dean gave me your old job."

"_Oh?"_

"Yeah. And I have no idea what to do."

"_So you call me? Sweets, you're my replacement!"_ Joey faked the hurt in his tone, but laughed at the end. Joyce grimaced as the train pulled up.

"It's just tempt. Then it's back to books for me."

"_Destroying young writer's dreams," _came the laugh. _"Dunno what you want me to tell ya; collect statements, don't get political, don't hit anyone."_ Joyce leaned against a pole.

"C'mon, Joe. I dunno how to do this stuff; I can barely talk to my neighbors and we all live in the same building. How am I suppose to talk to other people and get facts?" There was a grunt.

"_Rent a lie detector, Sweets; people hate all journalist who aren't stalking stars. They'll tell you everything but the facts just to mess with ya,_" was the cynical reply followed with a long breath. _"Honestly, Sweets, all you need to do is get a broad picture and leave to rest to facebook and what not."_ The train came to a stop and Joyce stepped out.

"There has to be more to it than that," she scoffed.

"_Sweetness, you do anymore that and you'll be out of a job like me."_ Joey's bitterness was as clear as the snow that started to gently fall around her as she stepped back into the streets of the city. _"When do you need to send it in?" _

"Tomorrow night."

"_Alright, you write it up tonight and I'll come in the morning and spice it up for you. I need to drop off Bren's Christmas gift anyway."_

"That would be great, Joey. Thanks," Joyce stepped to the side to avoid a puddle. "You sure you don't have any real advice?"

"_Look, it really is like I said; get the broad picture with a few names, over dramatize to get the readers involved, and leave the rest to the internet. As for the people; it varies. The tough part is getting them to actually talk you. Some will be more than willing just to get their name in the paper, others—not so much. Watch your nose when they slam the door in your face."_ Joyce sighed.

"Alright. Thanks Joe. I'll see ya tomorrow."

She hung up the phone as she made her way to the college. Around her, Joyce saw a few Christmas decorations here and there, but thanks to other religions throwing such a big deal over the whole thing, there wasn't a lot of decorations. (2) Not that Joyce minded; she hated the holidays.

Well; perhaps "hate" wasn't accurate, but she was bitter towards them and for, what she had to admit, was the silliest of reasons. A reason she didn't want to admit, even to herself.

It wasn't long before Joyce came upon the college. She sighed, inhaling the cold air in to her her throat. She really didn't want to do this; she felt as if she were invading a place she shouldn't.

_'Let's just get this done, Joyce.__' _she told herself.

A girl named Julia Tate had killed herself at the school. No one knew why, but one night she ran out of her dorm, screaming and threw herself over a bridge and into the frozen water below where she drowned. At first the police suspected that someone was chasing her, but Joyce was told that multiple camera proved otherwise. After talking to the roommate and a few other students, she discovered that the girl had multiple panic attacks for more than a month. They finally decided that she couldn't handle all the stress and finally broke down.

It was sad, yet Joyce could only think how pathetic is was; so many people fought their everyday trying to live, dealing with hunger, poverty, oppression, abuse, yet so people just threw their own life away just because of a little stress?

It was heartless, she knew, but Joyce didn't feel sorry for that girl; she felt sorry for the people who she left behind.

Joyce stopped in front of a class room door. After talking to the roommate, she was directed to the Julia's favorite teacher, Mr. Bennett. She decided this would be the last stop. She had to admit though, this all was an experience; everyone face was different. Some were sad, some were even annoyed, but for the most part while they felt sorry for her, they didn't seem to really care. Somehow that was sadder than any of it all.

After glancing in to make sure there was no class in session, Joyce knocked on the door and entered.

"Hi, are you-" The name finally clicked in her mind. Mr. James Bennett. Jamie Bennett.

_'Ah, shit!' _Jamie turned to her and for a moment she was sent to the past for except for the pair of spectacles and the adult teeth, he looked almost exactly the same as he did over thirty years ago. With an awkward cough, she continued on; "Mr. Bennett?" He blinked at her before a large awkward smile appeared on his face.

"Cupcake? Is that you?" he asked. Joyce laughed nervously. She was surprised he recognized her even though she hadn't changed too much over the years except that she was an adult.

"Wow, I haven't been called that since my mom died." she said. Jamie came from around his desk and shook her hand. Even that felt awkward. When he he release her he leaned back against his desk.

"Wow. Just—wow. It has to be years now." He said. Joyce just nodded.

When she was a child Joyce was known as Cupcake, an affectionate nickname from her father. For most of her childhood she was friendless simply because she didn't know how to interact with the other kids. The fact that she was rather large and intimidating for her age did not help at all. Then one day she was hit in the face with a snowball and made friends. She was with them for a year, but then things changed horribly;

When she was thirteen the school started a system of fat cards and because of her large demeanor she had been one of the first to receive one. It was around this time that her acme had started acting up horribly, so this was two hits to herself esteem that was fragile even to today. Before the fat card she could lie and say that her ugliness was all in her head, but now there was documented proof from a school organization and it gave the kids that teased her more power than ever.

She was ashamed of this now that she was older, but back then because of her low self-esteem, she distanced herself from her friends because they were all good looking and she wasn't. It was shallow and even after thirty years, she hated herself for it. Back then however, whenever she hung out with Pippa and saw how pretty she was and how Jamie could do things that wasn't physically fit to do- it just made her feel worse about herself.

The worst (and strangest) thing about that time however was the nightmares; they came every time she dreamed. As an adult, Joyce assumed that it was because the stress she was going through just like her mother and father did.

Cupcake's grades started to fail, she was more anti-social than ever, failing into a depression even. It wasn't until her parents decided to pull her out of school and home schooled her did Cupcake show any improvement.

Most would say that the isolation would have made things worse, but for Cupcake it gave her time to heal. Eventually the dreams subsided and in time her completion cleared up (though the weight was still there making her feel like an apple with boobs).

She eventually got back into the world, but by then her friendship with Jamie and the others was over. So seeing him now, standing before her was just—odd.

Joyce couldn't believe that she was talking with him.

"You look good," he said after a silence.

"Thanks," Joyce said as she shifted on her feet. "You look good too."

"Thanks," he rubbed the back of his head. "So- what brings you here? Are you thinking of enrolling?" Joyce shook her head.

"Ha, ha! No. Once was enough," she replied. "I'm actually here to discuss the student that... jumped." Jamie's whole demeanor became sad and defensive at the same time.

"Oh-hh... You're a reporter?" he asked. Joyce rubbed her arms.

"Yeah, kinda," she said. "I usually just write book reviews, but my boss needed someone to cover the story and well..." she trailed off. "I'm really out of my zone. If it's too painful-"

"Yeah, it is." Jamie said rather firmly. He went quiet as the room suddenly chilled for a few moments. "But because it's you; I'll talk." he added rather stiffly. Joyce shifted then shivered at the atmosphere between them.

"Alright...Thanks." wanting to get this over with as quick as possible, she flipped open her little notebook. She had a few basic questions and she kept it that way, not willing to push forward.

"Um, was Julia acting odd before- well. The others say that it was stress."

"Yeah, they would." came the answer. He paused as if listening to someone, then continued. "Julia was a major in English. She wasn't a straight _'A'_ student, but she didn't have anymore trouble with the school work than anyone else. But then she started having these dreams." Jamie watched her for her reaction.

"Oh?"

"Nightmares," he pressed on. "Horrible nightmares that haunted her daily."

"Well, nightmares are caused by stress," Joyce said awkwardly. "I mean, debts, school work, jobs to try and pay debts, frickin' algebra." she forced an awkward, hollow laugh. "Anyone would be having nightmares." Jamie continued to watch her.

"It was a lot like... you years ago?" Joyce tilted her head.

"Oh?" Then it dawned. Her voice went flat. "Oh."

"You remember don't you?"

"Please don't tell me you're serious."

"You do."

"I remember being a child going through an emotional time," Joyce said stiffly. "I got over it."

"Cupcake-"

"I prefer Joyce now, Mr. Bennett. I out grew Cupcake a long time ago," she tried her best to press on. "Do you know if Julia had any problems at home? Boyfriend trouble perhaps?" Jamie wasn't going to be deterred.

"Look, I understand that you don't want to think about it, but what happened to you years ago is happening again to others!" Jamie pressed on.

"Naturally, everyone has nightmares."

"It's not that. Pitch-"

"Was a thing we made up." Joyce gave Jamie a cold look. She closed the notebook and shoved it in her pocket. She didn't have time for this. "I am sorry for your loss, but I have to tell you; burying yourself in childhood fairy tales is not going to help you get over it. And it's a complete disrespect to the memory of the person in question!"

"Forgetting didn't help you either!"

"Forget _what_?!" Cupcake exclaimed, exasperated. "I had bad dreams! That's all!" She glowed. "God, what the hell is wrong with you? Shadows aren't! Aren't scareling—fearthing- _monsters_! They're just shadows caused by light! And there's no man hiding under your bed to try and take your soul! God, I had this conversation with my son when he was four!" Joyce honestly couldn't believe she was having this conversation with a man roughly her own age. "And before you bring it up along with all my other childhood drama, there's no Jack Frost, Sandman, Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, or Santa Claus, alright?! Good god, Jamie you're past your thirties! You should have at least a little common sense!" She rolled her eyes. "This is why when you tell your kids stories, you need to be clear that they're stories! Otherwise they grow up believing in—follies!"

Jamie glared at her, his brown eyes full of humiliation, anger, and hurt as they met hers.

"You don't even know do you? What they did! What they gave up just to try-"

"Oh, my god! How can you still be like this?" Joyce snapped. "They did nothing! I saved myself by growing up and dealing with reality! And let me just say that it is _really_ horrible for you to try and cover this tragedy up with your stories!" She stormed towards the door where she paused.

"I really am sorry for your loss." Then she left.

Outside, Joyce's annoyance managed to keep her warm as she thought back to her childhood. Now that she thought about it, something was missing, but what? She shook her head. She didn't want to know, nor did she need to.

What she needed was to get home to Brendan and then start that paper. Ugh, that stupid paper! In the shadows, something twitched. She froze.

_'It was just an illusion of the light,'_ she told herself. _'Nothing more.__'_

She then gathered her jacket around her, glad for the moonlight that wrapped around her as she walked.

**~*End of Chapter*~**

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Yeah, I know. Boring first Chapter, but isn't that the status quo? I promise, things will get more exciting soon. Please review! If not for the story then how about because it's my birthday? -^o^-

1-One guess who she was named after; I imagine Cupcake being just a nickname.

2-Maybe it's just me, when I was walking in 2013, there was hardly any Christmas decoration around.


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